Game of Thrones Season Seven
by JonTargaryen2411
Summary: This is a fanfiction on the long awaited Game of Thrones season 7. The contest for the Throne continues. With Jon Snow as the King in the North and Daenerys Targaryen invading from the east, keeping the Iron Throne is going to be no cakewalk for Cersei. This is the my version of the events which are likely to take place next season.
1. Prologue

**PROLOGUE**

There was fear in the woman's voice. "Will he live?"

Godfred did not reply. He studied the body lying in front of him. The man was plump, with long black hair. His white surcoat was stained red.

Godfred placed his old wrinkled hand gently on the man's chest and then checked his pulse. He turned to the lady. "I'm sorry."

Tears brimmed in the woman's eyes. "Please?" He shook his head sadly.

The woman wailed and began to sob hysterically. Godfred patted her on the back and made his way towards the door, leaving the widow alone to mourn. Tyson, his assistant stood outside in the small dimly lit chamber. He was a young man of sixteen, tall and lanky with brown hair. "Bad news?" he asked.

Godfred nodded. "It has been the fourth one this week. I really don't know what these Black Necromancers want. Why are they onto the throats of the innocents?"

Tyson shrugged. "What about that man? Why couldn't you save him?"

"The man was dead hours ago! His wife found him rotting in an empty alleyway and dragged him here! Did you think of me as some sort of wizard? I'm only a maester for god's sake."

"And the best one here in Tyrosh. These people worship you. They think there's magic in your hands."

Godfred scratched his neatly trimmed beard. "The ruler doesn't seem to be paying any heed either. He spends his _precious_ time dicing and drinking."

"Maybe you should be the ruler. I bet you could rid the city of these Black Necromancers in a heartbeat."

The Maester laughed. "A child's innocence. How would people accept a man from Asshai as their leader?"

"Just like the Meerenese accepted Daenerys Targaryen!"

 _Targaryen._ The name sent chills down his spine. He had been hearing a lot about this dragon queen from the past three years. The common folk said that she had three fierce dragons who burned cities for her. _Daenerys Targaryen,_ he thought nervously. _Aerys's daughter._

His thoughts suddenly wandered off to the days spent with Aerys. He had been a courteous young gentleman who treated people justly. Godfred had been about forty when he was appointed as the Grand Maester. He had been a great master and a good advisor to his king. But that was before Aerys started burning things. Godfred tried to protest against him only to get fired from the council. "Get lost," the Mad King's cold words echoed in his ears. "Get lost before I burn each and every bone in your body and feed your ashes to the goats."

He smiled gently at Tyson. "Not my cup of tea, I fear. Too much stress for no cause."

Deafening wailing sounds could be heard from the other room. They were loud enough to make anyone's ears bleed.

"It's pretty saddening," Tyson said. "She'll never get to see her husband again."

Godfred sighed. "I know how it feels. I felt the same once, lost and alone. It feels like the gods are playing crazy japes on you and the whole world is laughing at them."

Tyson stared back. "You do?"

Godfred nodded. "She was the only one I ever loved. I met her in my homeland. We had some really good times. She did not travel with me to King's Landing but promised to wait for my return. When King Aerys told me to piss off from his city, I went straight to Asshai. She wasn't there. I looked for her everywhere but to no avail." He exhaled, running a hand through his long white hair.

"Who was she, my lord?"

"A sorceress. Kissed by fire. Her name was Melisandre."


	2. The Lord's Son

**THE LORD'S SON**

The funeral was a quiet procession. Walder Frey's pyre lay on the lush green grass outside the Twins surrounded by his friends, family and servants. The morning's frosty wind was filled with sullen silence.

Waldron Frey stood at the back crying silently. It was not as if Walder Frey had been nice to him in general, but after all, he was his father.

The death like silence went on for a while. Finally, the grey-eyed Stevron Frey spoke up. "Friends, family" he said clearing his throat. "Today we have gathered here to pay our final respects to Walder Frey, Lord of the Twins, Lord of Riverrun and Lord Paramount of the Trident." He looked around nervously. "He was a man of wisdom, a just lord and a magnificent parent. He will be missed terribly. But now his time here is done. May the Seven protect his soul and let him rest in peace."

There was a polite applause. Taking the torch from his sister's hand, Stevron set the pyre aflame. Within minutes, the man with the three big titles became a heap of ashes.

"Freys!" Derwa Frey cried. "Our lord is gone but house Frey is not! Stevron Frey becomes the lord. That deserves a celebration. Tonight, we will have a big feast for all the Freys, trueborn and baseborn." The people responded to her words with a weak cheer.

"Brother!" Stevron Frey rushed towards Waldron, huffing. "Doing okay?"

Wiping his eyes, Waldron nodded. "Father was a good man."

"Yes, yes, he was very good," Stevron agreed. They walked in silence for a while.

"I saw her," Waldron said suddenly.

Stevron looked confused. "What?"

"I saw the girl who killed our father."

Astonishment reflected on the new Lord's face. "Why didn't you yell or do something?"

His eyes became watery again. "I opened my mouth but no words came out. All I could do was stand there helplessly watching the girl fling open the doors and run away." He started to sob again.

"Brother," Stevron said soothingly. "What is gone is gone. There is no point in crying over it." He patted him heavily on the back. "Now go to the kitchens and drink till you drop."

Waldron nodded silently and marched to the kitchens. He spent the rest of his day there eating and drinking and hiding from his brothers and sisters.

The feast was very noisy. The soldiers had done the job of setting up the tables and gone back to their duties.

"I'm so hungry that I could eat dog shit!" complained Waldron Frey. He had seated himself at the high table in between Stevron and Derwa Frey. "How long do I have to wait?"

"Be patient, brother," Derwa chided. "It is forbidden to eat or drink before the Lord's toast."

The rest of the hall was buzzing with Freys. They were joking, japing, making weird noises. It was as if Walder Frey had never died.

"Your attention please," Derwa Frey boomed. "I would like to toast for the new Lord of the Twins. Long may he reign! To Stevron!" She took a sip.

Waldron reached for his glass and knocked it over. Wine spilled on the table and on the floor.

"To Stevron," the others cheered and drank.

"Klutz," Derwa taunted. She turned to Ryger Rivers. "Any news from the Boltons?"

"Don't you know anything you half-wit?" Ryger taunted.

"Careful, bastard!" Derwa Frey threatened.

Rivers ignored her. "The Boltons are gone. Jon Snow rules Winterfell." He took a huge bite of his lamb. "King in the North, they call him. I say we invite him here and paint his clothes red. _Kof!"_ He coughed. "Just like his preposterous brother. _Kof! Ack!_ " He broke into a fit of coughing.

"Fetch him some water!" Derwa yelled patting Ryger's back. A servant hurriedly poured water into a goblet and handed it to Ryger. He raised it to his lips, took a sip and spat blood.

Silence fell on the whole table. Ryger Rivers slumped in his seat and landed on the floor with a huge thud. Blood was gushing from his mouth, nose and ears.

"Seven hells!" hissed Stevron Frey.

"The maester! _Kof!_ " yelled Derwa. "Somebody _kof, kof, kof, ack!_ " She clutched her throat. Her cough became a horrible thin whistle as she struggled to breathe. She collapsed in a heap on the ground.

The hall was going berserk. People were coughing violently clawing at their throats. Many collapsed to the ground with blood flowing from their mouths and nostrils.

"Waldron!" Stevron Frey choked. His eyes were bloodshot. "The wine..."

"I know," Waldron said smiling at him. He stood up. "What goes around eventually comes back, doesn't it?"

And in a swift motion, Arya ripped Waldron's face off hers and tossed it onto the man's plate.

Stevron went insane. He got off his chair and squeezed her throat tightly. His fingernails dug into her skin. "Who the heck are you!?" he rasped.

Arya Stark said nothing. She stared back coldly savouring the situation.

"You, _kof! Kof! Kof!_ " Stevron's grip loosened. And in a moment, he fell to the ground like a sack of potatoes.

The hall went quiet. Arya reached into her pocket, pulled out the poison and grinned at it. She sat down on one of the chairs. Her head was buzzing with all the thoughts of the day.

Waldron Frey had just arrived after she had killed Walder Frey. Without waiting for a second Arya had slit his throat. After cutting the man's face, she had hidden his body underneath a broken floorboard.

She observed the corpses bedecking the floor. Seeing so many dead Freys gave her mind peace.

 _Where to go now?_

 _Winterfell,_ she thought. It was her everything. It was her father's comforting hug and her mother's loving kiss. It was Robb's courage and Jon's assuring smile. It was Bran and Rickon's innocence. It was Sansa's sweet song and Nymeria's fierce howl. It was home.

 _Why not go north?_ _Jon would love to see me, to mess my hair and call me 'little sister.'_

Arya got up and gathered all her things. She danced across the hall happily trodding the corpses. There were no guards outside but there were some at the gate. "Who goes there?" one of them asked as she arrived on her horse. "I'm just getting some fresh air," she replied. "I do not want to intrude the feast of crows."

She spurred her brown mare before anyone could get the meaning and trotted out into the dark cold night.

 _Cersei,_ she remembered suddenly. _The Mountain, Beric Dondarrion, Thoros of Myr, The Red Woman. Valar Morghullis._ Cersei and Joffrey had murdered her father in front of her eyes and Gregor Clegane had slain her dearest friends.

 _Vengeance is what I want and vengeance I shall have_. Taking a last look at the Twins, she spurred her horse and began to make her way towards King's Landing.


	3. TYRION

**TYRION**

Tyrion Lannister retched for the fourth time. Clutching the rail tightly, he looked across the deck at Varys. The Spider did not look pleased.

"Drinking less won't hurt, you know," he said making a disgusted face.

Tyrion chuckled. "That's like getting telling the dragons not to breathe fire." He took a deep breath and exhaled. "How long till Highgarden?"

"Not much, I think."

"Good," Tyrion replied cheerfully. "I have been waiting since forever to leave this stinking piece of wood you call a ship."

He began walking towards his cabin, as fast his stunted legs could carry him. Varys followed him.

"Do all the eunuchs act like shadows?" Tyrion asked bitterly.

Varys raised his brows. "Do all the dwarfs act like imbecile creatures?"

"Fine," Tyrion said rolling his eyes. "Just don't touch my sword. I will need it when I lead the battle."

His cabin was a nice and cosy place. It included a featherbed, a table, two worn out chairs and three big barrels of Dornish wine.

"Fancy a game of _cyvasse_?" Tyrion asked, sitting on his bed.

"There are many more interesting things than board games," Varys told him. "Did you know that Daenerys Targaryen has finally decided to chain up her dragons?"

"I'm not surprised," Tyrion admitted. "Three brilliant fire-breathing creatures in a world full of hate. I would have done the same."

The rest of their afternoon was very lazy. The ship rocked slowly on the waves as Tyrion beat Varys in three straight games.

They arrived at the royal cabin in the evening, where the small council meetings took place. Tyrion opened the door and entered a brightly lit room.

A map of Westeros was sprawled on the table. Daenerys was studying it keenly. Black circles had formed beneath her eyes.

"Where is everyone else?" Varys questioned, closing the door.

"This meeting is not for everyone," the mother of dragons stated. She beckoned them both to sit. "You both have known Westeros a thousand times better than me. It is your counsel I need the most to win this war."

"Our pleasure," Varys said. "I have been meaning to say this from days. I think you should take the Targaryen banners down."

Tyrion cast him a very strange look. _Which tricks does he have hidden up his sleeves_? Daenerys looked shocked as well.

"Please do not take this the wrong way," the eunuch stated. "Your father was the last Targaryen Westeros had witnessed. He did many evil and unspeakable things. He burned people alive, butchered babies in front of their mothers. Everyone hated him though no one had the guts to say that. My biggest fear is when people see your banners in King's Landing, they will take you for your father and go against you."

"So what are you suggesting?" the mother of the dragons asked.

"Fight without banners or perhaps under the Tyrell or Martell banners," Varys said. "When we finally win the throne, you host the banners to tell the people that their true queen has returned."

"You are not as clever as I thought, Varys," Tyrion laughed. "Banners, no banners, it won't make a difference." He turned to Daenerys. "Your deeds make or break your life, not your bloodline. I have a much clear plan."

"Go on," said Dany shifting restlessly in her seat.

"We keep the banners and sail to Kings Landing with the Tyrell and the Martell army. No dragons. They will frighten the people. Once we set foot there, you will offer Cersei peace."

"Absurd," the eunuch said at once. "Why offer Cersei terms of peace when you know she won't accept them?"

The Imp grinned. "Exactly! We offer her to surrender the throne in seven days. If she does so, allow her to go back to Casterly Rock to spend the rest of her days in peace. As far as I know Cersei, she won't accept these terms. So, we have a siege outside the Mud Gate. My sister is fool enough to meet you in open battle with whatever strength she has which according to Varys is really very less."

"Just a few Freys at the Twins, a few at Riverrun and some Lannisters at Casterly Rock. That would be half of our entire host." Varys pointed out.

"Now, the Freys have been turncloaks before, so Cersei won't risk calling them. By the time the Lannisters reach, King's Landing will be taken." Tyrion concluded.

"Just the Martells and the Tyrells?" Daenerys asked. "Will that be enough? What about the Unsullied and the Dothraki?"

"They will do the job of maintaining peace when you rule the Seven Kingdoms," Tyrion said. "We should save as many men as possible. The Tyrells and the Martells alone make twice the soldiers in King's Landing."

"If we have twice the soldiers, we could just take King's Landing without a siege," Varys argued.

"You're missing the point," Tyrion Lannister snapped. "Offering peace will tell people that Daenerys is not her father. Giving a chance to Cersei will make her look good in the eyes of the people."

The mother of Dragons nodded approvingly. "Seems good to me."

"It is a mystery how such a small man can conjure such great ideas," Varys said. "What _is_ your secret?" he added ironically.

"There is none," Tyrion replied. "I drink and I know things."


	4. DAENERYS

**DAENERYS**

Highgarden was indeed a magnificent place. The endless gardens bathing in the rays of the sun was a sight to soothe sore eyes.

Five men clad in the Tyrell armour came to escort Daenerys and her party. One offered to carry Tyrion for which he received a whack on the ear from the dwarf.

Varys fell in beside her. "There's someone I need to tell you about. I don't think you had a chance to meet Olenna Tyrell. Their ships set sail from Dorne way before ours. I have to warn you, the Queen of Thorns is not as pleasant as her flowers."

"Whether she is pleasant or not isn't my concern," Daenerys retorted. "She is supporting us. That's what matters."

The Great Hall brightly lit. The cool breeze wafting in through the big circular windows made the place a delight.

Dany saw an old woman clad in the Tyrell colours at the high table with a woman half her size dressed in black.

"Olenna Tyrell," the old woman said getting up as Dany approached her. They shook hands. "Varys has told us a lot about you and your dragons. Just make sure your beasts don't burn my pretty gardens." Daenerys nodded wearily.

"Ellaria Sand," the Dornish beauty said getting up. "A supporter of your house since the beginning." There was a fierceness in her voice which made Dany smile.

She was too stressed to hold any meetings that day. She spent the rest of day in her chambers till the edge of her fatigue was gone.

Daenerys chose a green dress for dinner, a big feast hosted by Olenna Tyrell in her honour. The tables were full of delicacies including rabbit stew, candied bacon, honey-soaked lamb and almond pie.

She glanced at Tyrion Lannister, who was learning the Valyrian tongue from Missandei.

"Let me try this again," the dwarf said. "Va... lon.."

" _Valonqar."_ Daenerys completed the sentence for him. "It means little brother."

"So me and Jaime are Cersei's _Va-lonkars_?"

She nodded. Tyrion looked amazed.

"May I join you, my Queen" she heard a voice as she It was the Dornish woman. "Sure," Daenerys said. Ellaria sat down.

The Dornish beauty looked around hastily and then leaned towards Daenerys. "Promise me," she said.

Befuddled, Dany stared at the woman.

"For Oberyn," she pleaded.

Daenerys had heard the story of the Mountain and the Red Viper a million times from Tyrion. "I understand," she said clutching the woman's hand tightly.

"That beast," Ellaria fumed. "He murdered my husband right in front of my eyes. Squashed Oberyn's eyes with his gigantic thumbs till the brains came bursting out of his head."

Dany flinched. She knew how it felt to lose your dearest one.

"It wasn't even my husband's fault! He was fighting for that little shit of a dwarf."

Daenerys was a bit offended. "We cannot blame Tyrion," she said sharply. "His sister had accused him of a false crime."

"I hold no grudges against the Imp," Ellaria stated. "It is Gregor Clegane that I wish to destroy. For Oberyn, for Elia, for house Martell and for Dorne." Saying so, she got up and stalked off.

Returning to her chambers, Dany was addled to see Olenna Tyrell sitting on her bed. "We need to discuss something crucial," the Queen of Thorns said impatiently. "Get out, dear" she told Missandei. "Let the grown women talk."

Daenerys bolted the doors. "Is everything fine?"

"Nothing is ever 'fine', dear," said Olenna. "I am here to warn you against the Lannisters."

"I already know a lot about Cersei."

"You know very well what I am talking about," Olenna said flashing her eyes.

It took a moment for Dany to realize. "No," she declaimed. "Tyrion is not my enemy. He came to me himself seeking justice. No one has been as loyal as him!"

"Loyal to you," Olenna said. "Or loyal to Cersei?"

"But he despises his sister!" Daenerys exclaimed. "She wanted him dead..."

Olenna sighed. "The game of thrones is complicated, dear. You never know who will keep your faith and who will stab you in the back." She got up. "Well, I've done my job." She left the room in a hurry.

The mother of the dragons sat down on the bed aghast. _Tyrion will never sell me out_. _He is my Hand and will always be at my side,_ she thought. _Or will he?_


	5. THEON

THEON

"For the love god!" Theon Greyjoy yelled. "I am not doing this!"

Yara Greyjoy paced nervously around the room. The sunlight streaming through the window reflected on her face. "Brother," she said restively. "It is all planned. All I am asking is to lift your lazy arse and come with me."

Theon walked to the window and clutched the grills. "No," he said harshly.

"Coward," Yara mocked him. "Where is the ironborn in you, Theon? Did it vanish when that bastard cut off your member?"

Theon looked at his sister angrily. "You..." he said through gritted teeth. "Daenerys Targaryen is our queen and we will do nothing that will hurt her. She _has_ promised to support your claim to the Saltstone chair."

"You blithering idiot!" his sister yelled shaking him by the shoulders. "We will be forgotten! Once the dragon hag plants her butt on the iron throne, she won't even bother to help the ironborn who came to her aid. So all we have to do is steal some of her ships and army and march home to take it back from Euron Greyjoy!"

"Well, that's very easy," he teased her. "Two iron scums facing the world with a teeny tiny army."

Yara slapped him. The force of it was so great that it sent him staggering backward. Blood oozed from his broken lip.

"Who wanted to cross the Narrow Sea in the first place?" he roared. "Whose idea was it to form an alliance with the Targaryens?"

"Mine!" his sister yelled back. "I regret it! I really do!"

A knock on the door interrupted their fight. It was a messenger. "The queen has called a meeting for the small council."

The meeting was already going in progress when they entered. The dragon queen, the dwarf, the bald eunuch, the leader of the Unsullied, the Dornish beauty and the cranky old woman were sitting around a circular table staring at a map of Westeros.

"To the Krakens," the Imp said raising his goblet. "May they continue to be on time." Theon did not answer and took his seat.

"So, where was I?" Tyrion asked. "Oh, yes, so we travel with the Martells and the Tyrells..."

"This one begs to differ," said Grey Worm. "Daenerys Stormborn brought us across the narrow sea to fight for her. The Unsullied will not let her fight the battle alone."

"Dear friend," Tyrion told him. "Fighting doesn't always mean battle. You will fight to keep peace after our queen sits on the Iron Throne. I know how you feel. But we cannot waste all our army at once. The Tyrells and the Martells have fought here in many battles before. They know their way around the war field."

"How are you so sure that Cersei won't summon the Freys?" Olenna Tyrell interrupted.

"I have lived with this woman for more than thirty five years. I pretty much get what's going on in her mind."

"But what if she does?" asked Ellaria. "If not the Freys, what if she calls the Boltons from the north?"

"The Boltons are gone. The Starks have taken their home back. Ned Stark's bastard Jon Snow has risen as the king in the north."

This was news for Theon. He suddenly felt happy and full of hope. "We need him on our side!" he exclaimed. "He wants to Cersei Lannister dead as much as you."

"And he has a big force," Varys added.

Daenerys looked daggers upon them. "Are you expecting me to unite with the people who brought down my father?"

"Jon Snow didn't!" Theon trembled.

The queen gave him a cold look. "But his father did. Rhaegar would have been alive if it wasn't for the Usurper and his friend! Once I am done with the south, I will have this bastard kneel to me."

Theon was flustered. Across the table, his sister flashed him a mocking grin.

"Well," said Olenna. "I suggest we send ravens to all the houses asking them to give up all their claims and swear fealty."

"And why would they?" the Imp asked bitterly.

"Why _won't_ they?"

Tyrion leaned back on his chair. "Tell me Lady Olenna, if some foreigner breaks into your kingdoms claiming to be the true heir and tells you to give up all your titles, would you?"

The Queen of Thorns didn't utter a word.

"So, everything is great then!" Tyrion said jollily. "On the morrow, we set sail for Kings Landing..."

"Dragonstone," the queen interrupted. "Before taking my father's home, I will take my brother's home back."

Varys leaned over the map searching for the island. "An astute move, I must say. Being very near to Kings Landing, we can easily retreat there if we lose. Also, you will get to keep an eye on Cersei."

"Who holds it now?" asked Ellaria.

"Last it was held by Stannis Baratheon," said Varys. "But now house Baratheon is gone. So this will be a piece of cake for us."

"Does anyone else wish to express?" Daenerys asked.

"Yes." Theon looked across the table. Yara cleared her throat. "Cersei Lannister isn't your only enemy. Euron Greyjoy marches upon you with his ships and a wedding proposal."

"We certainly hadn't thought of that!" Varys exclaimed.

"But I and my faithful brother will banish him. The only worry is..."

"We don't have an army and enough ships." Theon completed the sentence for her.

"Well," the queen said. "We aren't using the Dothraki and the Unsullied. You can take half from each."

"I don't trust him," the dwarf said at once. "We need someone faithful to keep an eye on him."

"No one is more faithful than Grey Worm here," Daenerys said.

"I will do as Daenerys Stormborn wishes," Grey Worm said.

"It is the word of an ironborn," Yara declaimed. "Once I sit on the Saltstone chair, I will get all the krakens to worship you."

"Good," said the queen. "You have my word."

Theon looked at his sister awestruck. She flashed him a grin. He nodded back. _We are coming for you, Euron,_ he thought. _This time, we WILL make sure that no ungodly man rules the Iron Islands._


	6. BRAN

**BRAN**

Meera looked confused. "Are you sure this is the right direction?"

It had been two days since Benjen Stark had left them but the duo still wasn't able to find their way back.

"Uncle told us to head straight," Bran said hesitantly. "We should have found our way back."

The briskly falling snow slowed. Meera's cheeks turned to a shade of scarlet as she fought to pull Bran through the foot deep snow.

They did not have anything to eat but slender squirrels which Meera hunted with her three pronged spear.

The night was getting chilly. Meera stopped near a heart tree and exhaled. Bran stared at its red eyes which stared back coldly. He shivered.

Meera was trying to light a fire."So how do you plan to break it to him?"

"What?" Bran asked.

"Your brother, fool! You cannot just walk up to his face and tell him that he is the heir to the Iron Throne."

"He is still a bastard, though. Rhaegar Targaryen was married to Elia of Dorne."

Meera's eyes bore into him. "Codswallop. Rhaegar must have married your aunt in secret before going further."

"How are you so sure?"

"Because he doesn't seem like a person who would steal anyone's woman. Yes, his father was mad but Rhaegar is a completely different story." She paused. "So how do you plan on telling it to Jon?"

A lump formed in Bran's throat. "I don't know."

"What? But you said Jon was treated like shit back at Winterfell and no one answered his question. He deserves to know who his true parents are!"

"I _am_ going to tell him! I just don't know how."

Meera began to roast the squirrels for their dinner. They ate in complete silence, each one occupied with their own thoughts.

"Well, well," a rough voice intruded. "Haven't we got good meat for today?"

Three wildlings appeared out of nowhere. There were two men. One had no left eye. A woman was with them, portly and grubby.

"We are lost," Meera told them. "I'm sorry if we have intruded your territory. We will leave at once."

The one-eyed wildling stepped forward. "And why should we surrender such good meat?"

Meera grabbed hold of her three pronged spear. "Savage bastards! Hunt boars if you want to fill your stomach."

The woman smiled maliciously. "Not the same satisfaction, I'm afraid." She looked at Bran. "Why are you so frail, boy? Did your mother spend more time feeding the goats than paying attention to you."

Bran was foaming at the mouth. "Speak one more word about my mother and I will have your heads on a spike!" He had never been this angry. He was surprised himself.

The wildlings laughed.

"And who in the seven hells are you?" the bearded man asked.

"BRANDON STARK!" Bran yelled back.

The wildling stepped closer. Meera charged at him with full force. Very casually, the wildling pushed her. She hit the heart tree with a sickening crunch and fell down unconscious.

The bearded wilding put a knife to Bran's throat. "Tell me again. Who are you?"

"I'm BRANDON STARK! THE PRINCE OF WINTERFELL!"

The wildling pressed the knife harder. Warm blood ran down the cold steel. "Well, I'm sorry that your journey has come to a..."

An arrow jutted out of the man's chest. With a terrified expression, he collapsed in the snow.

A man emerged from the bushes nearby, wrapped in a black cloak and carrying a crossbow. He was muscular and had a long black beard. He walked towards Bran. "Are you fine?"

"I don't know how to thank you," Bran told him. "Uh..."

"Gendry," the Night's Watchman said and smiled. "And you don't need to thank me. Any brother of Arya is my brother too."

"You know Arya?"

Gendry nodded. "I travelled with her for a long time. But then the Red Woman took me away from her. She was planning on killing me. Thankfully, Ser Davos was kind enough to help me escape. I travelled to Lys after that. Spent about three year selling armours. Unfortunately the other armourers were against it. They shut my business down and told me to get lost. So I travelled to the Wall and joined the Night's Watch."

Bran was amazed.

Gendry blushed. "I'm sorry for boring you." He glanced at Meera. "Is she with you?"

Bran had forgotten all about her. "Will she live?"

"She's just unconscious. We'll get her back safe."

"How is my brother?" Bran asked suddenly. "Jon Snow?"

"The King in the North, you mean. He has retaken Winterfell from Ramsay Bolton."

Bran's eyes went as wide as pie plates. "What? How?"

"I don't know much. You can ask Edd," he said hoisting Meera on his horse.

They arrived at the Wall a day later. Bran looked up from his sled at Meera and Gendry and beamed. "We are home."


	7. SANSA

**SANSA**

Brienne of Tarth and Podrick Payne arrived in the morning.

"Riverrun is gone," Brienne said getting off her horse. "Jaime Lannister took it."

Sansa Stark smiled. "It doesn't matter. We got back our home."

"The odds must have been on your side. You didn't have much force, did you?"

Sansa shook her head. "Baelish and the Knights of the Vale came to the rescue halfway through the battle."

A muddled expression could be seen on Brienne's face. "But I thought there was bad blood between you and Littlefinger."

"He responded to my call," Sansa stated. "Ramsay's dogs would have been devouring on our bones if it wasn't for him."

Brienne shrugged and marched to the castle to unpack.

The winds blew harsh and cold in the night. Sansa made her way towards the crypts to light the candles of the dead as she did every night.

As she was lighting her aunt's candle, she heard a noise. Turning around, she saw a lanky figure staring at her. The light from her candle reflected on his face. "You?"

Petyr Baelish smirked. "Praying for the dead won't bring them back."

Sansa looked daggers at him. "Have you been spying on me?"

"Those days are long gone. I'm a completely loyal person now."

"I don't believe you."

"Are all the Starks this brooding? Just like your father, you don't have any sense of humour."

"How dare you..."

Baelish looked at the statues and sighed. "They all perished so quickly. Ned, Cat, Robb, Rickon, Bran..."

"Bran isn't dead!" she yelled back. "I know he is out there!"

Petyr scoffed. "Oh, you never know."

Her head was throbbing with anger. She took a deep breath to calm herself. "What do you want?"

"I have an offer. You won't like it much but your brother will." He started walking towards the exit. "We'll meet in the Lord's chambers."

She arrived in Jon's chambers after a while. Littlefinger was already there. Her brother was immersed in a letter.

"The Freys are gone?" Jon asked as Sansa sat down.

"Not all of them," Baelish told him. "Emmon Frey still rules Riverrun. But his nephew Clistar took a huge chunk of his army and marched to claim the Twins. He has formed his own independent kingdom."

"Clistar?" Jon asked. "I've never heard of him."

"Neither had I. But there are _many_ Freys you haven't heard of," Baelish said.

"So what is your offer?" Jon questioned.

"Now that Clistar is not loyal to anyone, we negotiate with him and support his claim. In return, he gives us his army. Another useful addition against the White Walkers."

"So when shall I meet him?" Jon Snow asked.

"There is one problem. The Freys are not very open minded people. They still think of you as a... uh..."

Jon nodded. "I understand."

Littlefinger let out a sigh of relief. "So who better than Ned Stark's trueborn daughter to seal our alliance."

Sansa had not spoken a word till then. She pounded her fist on the table. "No!"

Jon was nonplussed. "What's amiss?"

"They killed Robb!" Sansa fumed. "And my mother! I would rather die than fighting at their side!"

"Clistar Frey didn't!" Baelish argued. "And the ones who did are already dead!"

Sansa gave him a dirty look. "This is another one of your filthy schemes, isn't it? Are you going to sell me just like the you sold me to Ramsay?"

"I'm not asking you to marry him," Littlefinger said in a soft voice. "You are the only one who can win him over. The last hope against this coming storm."

"He's right," Jon told her. "We have to cast aside our differences and work as a team." He took her hand. "When the White Walkers arrive, it won't matter who's an enemy or who's a friend. It will be a fight of the living against the dead."

Sansa nodded stiffly. "What if someone tries to strangle me in my sleep?" It was a childish question which she regretted immediately.

Jon chuckled. "They won't. And even if they tried, Brienne will be there to protect you."

She saw Baelish frown at the mention of Brienne's name but she felt glad.

"Well, it's settled then!" Jon said. "I'll arrange for your travels."

"I owe you," Petyr said getting up. "We leave tomorrow." He marched out of the room.

Sansa walked towards the door and glanced at Jon who was scribbling something onto a parchment. She stared at him for a long time. He did not look up once.

Sansa left the room.


	8. CERSEI

**CERSEI**

She dreamt of her walk of atonement. Thousands had gathered to watch Cersei parade through the stony streets.

A bell rang followed by the voice of a Septa. " _Shame!"_

Cersei flinched. The sound of it made her shiver.

The people in the crowd were laughing their guts out. She saw Robert Baratheon, Ned, Catelyn and their son Robb among them. They were pointing at her and giggling just like little girls.

"You're dead," she told them. "Killed by Lannisters." But they kept on chuckling.

She did not stop walking. Tyrion appeared in front of her, lofty and lanky. He was about a foot taller than her.

"You..." she yelled looking up at him.

The Imp flashed a cruel smile. "I've got a trick for you sister." He took out four huge balls from his pocket.

 _Not balls,_ Cersei realized. _Heads._

"Say hello to father," Tyrion said holding Tywin's head up. "And your children!"

Cersei's throat went dry. "Please... No..."

The 'dwarf' raised Joffrey's head to his mouth and began to chew it. She heard the crunch of her son's bones and felt nauseous.

Tyrion took Myrcella and Tommen's head's and started eating them. Blood dribbled down his lips and onto his chest. Within minutes, the Imp gobbled up all the four heads and let out a burp.

Cersei lost her temper. She reached for Tyrion's throat and tried to strangle him. "AARGGH!" His throat was as hot as wildfire.

She felt the skin melting off her right hand. Her bones began to poke out.

 _"Shame!"_

Cersei began to walk again.

She saw a dragon flying above her head. Its yellow eyes bore right into hers.

Cersei wanted to scream to the top of her lungs. She wanted to cry till all her tears dried out. But when she opened her mouth, not a single sound came out. Cersei kept on walking.

She saw Maggy the Frog in front of her.

"You bitch!" Cersei screamed. "My children are dead because of your bloody prophecies!"

The witch gave her a dark smile. "When your dreams have turned to dust and you are drowning in your own tears, the _valonqar_ shall wrap his icy fingers around your throat and choke the life out of you."

Jaime emerged from behind the woman.

Relief flooded Cersei. She ran to her brother, tears streaking down her bruised cheeks.

"Look what they have done to me!" she sobbed. "Your sister! Kill _all_ of them!"

Jaime's look was as cold as ice. He raised his sword...

... and stabbed his sister in the chest.

Cersei Lannister woke up drenched in sweat. Her head was throbbing very badly. _Dreams,_ she told herself. _Illogical illusions aren't enough to scare the queen of the jungle._

Cersei put on her black gown and her heavy crown. The Mountain was waiting for her outside. _No one will dare to lay a finger on me as long as he is with me._

"Your Grace," Maester Qyburn said as she arrived into the Throne room. "Have you had breakfast?"

"It can wait," Cersei said fretfully. "We have to talk." She took her seat on the Iron Throne.

She told him all about her dreams. The small man listened patiently.

"I never believed in prophecies to be honest," he said after she was done. "Fate is a cruel and unpredictable thing after all. It has the power to shower you with gold and turn that gold to dust the next moment."

Cersei rubbed her forehead. "And what about Jaime?"

"There has been tension between you two," Qyburn told her. "You have spent a lot of time away from each other."

"So what should I do?"

"Spend more time with him. Do something nice, perhaps. It will rid you off such vile dreams. If it doesn't then some Milk of the Poppy will."

She spent her morning listening to complains of the common folk while Jaime's thoughts played in the back of her mind.

"Summon my brother," she commanded a servant after the last person left.

A grim faced Jaime Lannister turned up after a while.

"Ser Jaime," Cersei said. "My son Tommen Baratheon, the late king eliminated you from the post of the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard and brought shame to the house."

"He had his reasons," Jaime said stiffly.

Cersei ignored him. "However I will not repeat the same mistake. I declare you the Lord Commander of the Queensguard."

She expected her brother to thank her or at least crack a smile or two. But Jaime Lannister just stared back coldly.

"It is my honour," he said finally. The sourness in his voice didn't go unnoticed. "I may have failed to serve the kings before you, but I will _never_ fail you."

He bowed to her and stalked off without her permission.

"He will come about," Qyburn assured her. "You just need a little patience."

She wanted to listen to the Maester but Maggy's voice kept echoing in her ears. " _When your dreams have turned to dust and you are drowning in your own tears, the valonqar shall wrap his icy fingers around your throat and choke the life out of you."_


	9. JAIME

**JAIME**

Jaime Lannister despised his new armour. It was entirely black, with the golden Lannister lion on the front. _The colour of Cersei's soul, perhaps._

He was the first one to arrive in the small council chambers. There was no sign of Cersei or anyone else. He walked towards the bookshelf. 'The Kings and their histories'. The book on the lowermost rack read. He picked it up and sat at the table.

 _Aerys II Targaryen_ , the book read. _Descendant of Aegon Targaryen_. _Manner of death: Murdered by one of his Kingsguard_. Jaime chuckled and turned the page _. Robert I Baratheon. Manner of death: Killed by a boar while hunting_. _Joffrey I Baratheon, son of Robert Baratheon_. Jaime chortled. _Manner of Death: Poisoned by his uncle_. He let out a deep sigh and turned the page. _Tommen I Baratheon, son of Robert Baratheon. Manner of death: Suicide._

Jaime slammed the book shut. _Bleeding liars._

"You are here already?" he heard Cersei's voice.

He looked up. "Yes. Time is a precious thing for me unlike some people."

His sister smirked. "Good. We always needed people like you." She seated herself across him. Qyburn sat next to her hastily.

"Where are the other members?" Jaime asked. He saw no one but Qyburn and the Mountain.

"Others?" the Maester asked.  
Jaime shook his head with disbelief. "No master of whisperers, no Grand Maester, no master of coin! How are you going to rule without them!?"

"Qyburn will be the master of whisperers, the Grand Maester and the Hand of the Queen," she said proudly. "Randyll Tarly will be the new master of coin."

Jaime was shocked. "The Tarly's are joining us?"

His sister nodded. "About time. We needed a strong force like his on our side."

"Did you intimidate him or bribe him?"

"I promised him gold."

Jaime scratched his chin. "Horn Hill is surely a decent addition."

"It is true," Qyburn agreed. "Riverrun and the Twins are easily pregnable and Casterly Rock is too far away."

Cersei groaned. "If only Roose Bolton had handled the north well." She turned to her Hand. "We have to take it back from Ned Stark's bastard."

"Soon," said Qyburn. "But first we have to deal with the enemies in the south. The Martells and the Tyrells have risen in rebellion against the throne."

"Yes, I know that very well," Cersei snapped.

"Excellent," said Jaime. "When the Tarlys arrive, who do we attack first?"

"We won't," Cersei said breezily. "We stay put."

"Have you lost your mind?" Jaime asked incredulously.

"They won't take the Iron Throne from us. Whatever comes in our way, we will defeat it."

Jaime was losing his patience. "But we need to make a move and not just sit around polishing the iron chair with our arse."

Cersei shot him an unpleasant look. "Are you _questioning_ me now?"

 _She has gone mad,_ Jaime realized. He sighed and did not speak anything after that.  
Qyburn and Cersei talked for a while before the queen dismissed the meeting. Jaime got up and made his way towards the door. "You wait," she instructed her brother as she walked towards him.

"Now what?" he asked exhaustedly as Qyburn left.

Cersei took his hand. "You look pretty pissed off these days. May I know the reason?"  
Jaime shook her hand away. "You know very well why."

"I do not have the foggiest idea," his sister said softly.

At that point, Jaime Lannister lost his temper. "Tell me the truth, Cersei. What happened to Tommen?"

"Foolishness took over him."

"He was our son!" Jaime screamed. His voice echoed in the hall. "How could you let him die like this? This wouldn't have happened if you hadn't burned the sept in the first place!"

"I did what was best for my child!" she shot back. "Margaery was manipulating him! House Tyrell would have been ruling the seven kingdoms if I hadn't done that!"

His jaw clenched. "You care more about power than your children?You shameless swine! You heartless bitch!You will NEVER be a good queen! The realm will bleed under your rule."

The Mountain stepped between them. His threatening eyes met Jaime's and he grunted.

"Go ahead!" Jaime snapped. "Death would be better than serving you."

Cersei looked at him calmly. "Step aside, Ser Gregor." The Mountain obeyed.  
Jaime's face had turned red. He sat down and poured himself a drink.

"We're the _last_ Lannisters," Cersei said sitting next to him. "The last ones who count. We cannot let such small disputes break us. We should stay together, no matter what."

Jaime sipped his wine and looked at her.

"I know that I cannot be a good queen by myself," she said. "I need someone to rule it with me. Who better than you, brother? We'll seal our bond by marriage."

He spat out the wine and coughed. "No. The times have changed. You are the queen now."

"It didn't matter when Robert was the king. It won't matter now."

"This is different!" Jaime insisted. "Do you have any idea what people will say?"

"People," Cersei said softly. "Be nice to them and you're gutless, behave strictly and you're a wrath. Help them and you are a show off, if you do not, you are careless. If you cry, they call you craven, if you remain strong, they call you heartless." She stood up. "If we spend our lives worrying about the useless folk, we'll die, Jaime. We are the lions of Casterly Rock, the blood of Tywin Lannister. We live as we want."


	10. JON

**JON**

"So do you really trust that prick?" Tormund Giantsbane asked.

Jon Snow leaned back on his chair, doubts clouding his head.

"He's strange," Tormund admitted. "The way he looks, the way he talks... everything. And to send Sansa with him..."

Jon shivered inspire of the warmth of the great hall. The cold had gotten worse. Even Ghost could not sleep without furs.

"She'll be fine," Davos Seaworth said. "Brienne is going to accompany her."

Tormund looked disappointed.

The doors of the hall opened bringing in a blast of frigid air. Sansa walked in followed by Brienne and Littlefinger.

"We are here to bid farewell," Baelish told Jon. "At least she wanted to."

Jon got up as Sansa approached him at the high table. "Safe travels," he said meekly.

Sansa looked stern. "We need to talk."

Jon didn't have the need to make any gesture to Tormund and Davos. They walked away on their own.

"Remember Lysa Arryn?"

"Lady Catelyn's sister? She died jumping from the Moon Door?"

Sansa shook her head. "Petyr pushed her."

Jon stared back at her.

"He forced me to tell everybody that it was suicide. He's a vile man, Jon. He poisoned Joffrey with the help of Olenna Tyrell and blamed it on Tyrion."

"I would have never sent you with him if I had known," Jon whispered. "I shall execute him myself for his crimes..."

"Yes," Sansa said softly. "But not now. We need him to seal our alliance with the Freys whether we like it or not. It won't take long, I promise. And when I return after fixing the deal..." A cruel smile formed on her lips. "We will kill him."

Jon couldn't help but smile. "Be safe, sister," he said, wrapping her in a tight hug. She hugged him back.

They broke off a few moments later. Jon felt a mixture of anger and terror as he watched his sister walk towards Littlefinger. He glanced at Brienne. The woman looked back at him and nodded solemnly. Jon felt relieved.

They started their small council meeting an hour later.

"Umber and Karkstark," Robett Glover said. "They are traitors. They deserve to die."

"The way seems too harsh," Wyman Manderly told him. "We'll distribute their lands as rewards."

"Which requires killing them in the first place."

"That wouldn't be very kingly," Davos Seaworth admitted.

"And who is going to own those lands?" Lyanna Mormont questioned. "Wildlings?"

Jon Snow massaged his forehead. "We do nothing. Let their heirs take over their castles."

"And what if they rise together?" Glover asked.

"Then they'll have to wait the whole winter before attacking us," Davos said laughing.

Wyman shook his head. "And how are we going to deal with Cersei Lannister?"

"We are not going against Cersei," Jon said firmly. "We need her on our side."

"I mean no disrespect," Glover told him. "But this woman killed your father and our liege lord.

"She brought shame to House Stark," Manderly agreed. "Vengeance won't be a bad choice."

"This isn't about revenge," Jon told him. "If we don't have enough force, we won't survive the long night."

"Your brother fought for this his whole life," Glover said. "You can accomplish what he couldn't."

"...for Ned..."

"...the north remembers..."

Davos intervened. "I respect all your decisions but I think Jon Snow is right. If we don't cast aside our enemities and band together, we'll die. And then it won't matter whose skeleton sits on the Iron Throne."

Silence hovered in the air for a long time. Jon spoke up finally. "If we are decided..."

He was interrupted by a messenger. "A message from the Night's Watch," he said handing Jon the scroll.

Jon Snow unfurled it hastily and started to read. A smile spread on his face.

"What news is this good?" Davos asked.

Jon's smile grew farther. "Bran."


	11. MELISANDRE

**MELISANDRE**

The path wasn't decent at all. The grass was waist high. Small pebbles were scattered all over. It was her choice to avoid the Kingsroad. Not a smart decision after all.

The winds of winter blew fierce and strong.

Her black mare was wearing out every day. Its pace was getting slower and its body incredibly frail. No matter what, it wouldn't eat the grass. She herself hadn't eaten in many days and was just as strong as her horse. The only thing that kept her going was the fire inside her.

The rays of the morning's sun reflected on her ruby as she saddled her horse to a tree. Leaning against it, she closed her eyes. _Where am I going?_ she thought. _You are worthless,_ a voice inside her head said.

Melisandre opened her eyes for a second and then shut them again. _You failed your king,_ the voice said. _Burned his only daughter thinking that the Lord of Light would favour you. And what was the result? Defeat and death._

 _I should have stayed with Godfred,_ she realized. _I would have spent the rest of my days in peace. But no, the Lord of the Light told me to head west and I obeyed my false god. Godfred was always right. 'The only god present is the one that resides in your heart' he used to say._ She stroked the ruby in her necklace. It felt warm on her fingers.

There was a sound. _Horsebeats,_ she knew. They were coming closer every second. Swiftly, she unsaddled her horse. "Wait," a voice called. She turned around. Two men wearing grey armour were horsed.

"Who goes there," one of them spoke.

"A weary traveller," she replied. "Leave me be and I will let you live."

"She's tough," the other man snickered.

The first one got down from his horse. "Our king will decide what to make of her." He grabbed her hands and fastened a hempen rope around them.

"Now come!" he ordered her. Melisandre was too weak to fight back.

She could not say for how much time they travelled but it certainly wasn't a pleasurable experience. The horsed soldier dragged her through the rocky grasslands till her legs were sore.

A camp loomed just ahead of them. A gigantic tent was set up in the middle surrounded by many others. A few people laughed at her as they made their way into the big tent.

A bearded man sat on a featherbed surrounded by a handful of soldiers. His eyes glinted as he saw the Red Woman enter.

"Disappointing," he said in a gruff voice. "Is this the best wench you could find? Shame on you bastards!"

"She's not a wench, King Euron," the soldier replied politely.

"The who in the seven hells are you?" Euron Greyjoy asked.

Melisandre did not reply.

Euron stared at her ruby for a long time. She saw his eyes shine with excitement. "I've heard stories about how you won wars for Stannis. You are just like they described. _Kissed by fire._ "

Melisandre hadn't expected him to say that. "I don't know what you are talking about."

Greyjoy snickered. "Where do you come from?"

"Seagard," she replied hastily.

"And who are the lords of Seagards?"

"The Crakehalls," she replied quickly.

"The Mallisters," Greyjoy corrected. "I guess I've proved my point."

Melisandre felt her stomach sink. Two Greyjoy soldiers were blocking the entrance. _If only they would move…_

"They say you can see the future in the flames." Greyjoy pointed at the brazier closest to him. "Tell me what you see in those?"

"It does not work like that," she replied.

"I don't give two shits about how it works," Euron implied lifting his sword.

Melisandre gazed into the flames.

"My niece and nephew," Euron said pressing his fingers on his temple. "They ran away before I could kill them. My nephew Theon has the best claim to the Saltstone chair. Help me find them and I'll keep you alive. Fail me and your blood will be dripping off my sword's end."

"The kraken will come to claim what is his by right."

Euron smirked. "As I expected. What else?"

"The old maester will struggle as the black wizards engulf him." _Godfred,_ she realized suddenly. A tremor of dread slid through her.

Euron Greyjoy shook his head and raised his sword. Melisandre shut her eyes tightly and waited for the bite of the cold steel. But nothing happened. When she opened them, she saw him cutting the rope around her hands.

"What about the old man?" Greyjoy asked her.

"Nothing." _I need to save him._ She took a deep breath. "I ask of a favour."

"Ironborn don't do favours," Greyjoy replied.

"Then let me go!"

"You're never leaving," Euron stated.

"Then cut my throat and be done with it," she flared. "Or I'll do it myself." She grabbed a dagger from the table and pressed it on her neck.

Euron Gryejoy's smile vanished. "Fine! _If_ the mission of killing my nephew goes flawlessly, I'll think about your favour."

She lowered the dagger, still thinking about her lover.


	12. SAMWELL

**SAMWELL**

A sharp foul stench invaded Sam's nostrils as he entered the huge room with Pate. The shelves in every corner were full of medicines. On the rough stone floor lay numerous bodies. It looked like they were having the most peaceful nap in their whole life. Sam pinched his nose with his right hand and coughed. Pate was as calm as still water.

"If you want the Citadel to give you a chain, you shouldn't cower from such things," the youth stated.

Samwell Tarly made a disgusted face.

"Now wash the corpse of that old man in the corner," the youth told him.

Samwell felt queasy. He filled a pail with clean water and leaned across the white haired body. The hard floor hurt his knees. Then very cautiously, he wiped the man's cadaver with a cloth.

Pate's cool green eyes studied him as he performed the task. "Good," he said. "Now grab a knife and cut it open."

Sam did as he was told. He pressed the knife on the man's chest and slashed a vertical cut across it. He felt bile at the back of his throat as the sharp steel went through the mushy skin. _No,_ he told himself. _You cannot surrender. Do this for Jon, for little Sam, for Gilly._

His whole body was soaked with sweat by the time he finished. Pate studied the corpse. "Good," he said. "Now move on to the next one."

Sam was dumbstruck. "But I _just_ finished this one! It is only the first day of my training."

Pate sighed. "Don't blame me. I don't decide your schedule. I'm just a helper."

"I'm not sure I can do this," Samwell Tarly complained.

"When you serve as a maester in a battlefield, you will have to tend thousands and thousands of wounded soldiers at a time. There, you can't give such lame excuses."

"But this is my first time!"

"We preparing you for the worst," Pate told him. "The maesters are the wisest people in the whole Westeros. They must have put some thought into this."

"I don't quite get this," Sam told him. "How is cleaning dead men going to help me become a maester?"

"To achieve something big, you have to start small," Pate told him. "These corpses will wash away all the emotions inside you. You will no longer feel any disgust while tending to wounded men."

 _That was obvious,_ Sam thought. _You are embarrassing yourself again._ Perhaps the sight of so many dead people had dulled his senses.

"The path is going to be hard," Pate admitted. "It is going to take years and years of practicing. Ask yourself Samwell Tarly, are you ready?"

He hadn't thought about it much. _If I fail here, then what is my next destination?_ Horn Hill was definitely not an option. _My dear father will chop my head with his stolen the second I go home._ He could go to Winterfell and fall to Jon's feet and ask forgiveness. _I can never look Jon in the eye after that._ His last option was the Night's watch. But what good would it do if he went back there without achieving something. _They would call me by my old name; Samwell craven Tarly._

He took a deep breath and looked at Pate. "I am ready," he said washing the next corpse.


	13. JON 2

JON

A wolf howled into the night. _Ghost,_ Jon thought as he put on his gloves. They matched his black doublet perfectly. His shining sword lay on his soft featherbed. Jon picked it up and sheathed it.

Ghost howled again. Jon wrapped his furs tightly around him and made his way out of the Lord's chambers.

Davos Seaworth was waiting for him at the end of the passage. He had a huge smile on his face. "He's here!" Jon's stomach did a triple somersault.

The Night's Watch had promised to escort his brother safely. Jon trusted the Watch very much but a part of him wanted to go to Castle Black and get Bran himself.

Jon didn't remember following the Onion Knight into the Great Hall. The room was buzzing with noise and laughter. A bunch of familiar faces could be spotted but Jon was only searching for one.

His eyes scanned the room eagerly and finally he spotted him. There at the high table sat Brandon Stark on a wooden chair. He was surrounded by men of the Night's Watch and admirers. Their eyes met.

The last time Jon had seen his brother, he was small child who loved to climb towers. The person who sat in front of him was tall,lanky and looked matured. _He's grown a lot,_ Jon noticed.

Bran's jaw dropped to the floor. _I must be dreaming,_ Jon thought. But this was too real to be a dream or a vision. They gazed at each other for a moment.

Without waiting another moment, Jon rushed to his brother and wrapped him in a tight bone crushing hug. He felt tears well in his eyes. He hastily wiped them with his thumb. _This is real,_ he realized happily. _He's really back!_

"You're... You've... grown ," Jon said pulling himself free. He still couldn't believe it was actually happening.

"I have," Bran said smiling back at him. "I." Jon laughed and thanked the men of the Night's Watch.

More and more people were pouring into the hall. Many of his bannermen had come to see the true heir of Winterfell return.

"Bring more food and wine!" Robett Glover roared. "This occasion deserves a huge celebration!"

Once they were seated and feasting, Bran called a black haired girl to the table. "I want you to meet Meera Reed," he told Jon. "She is the one who stuck with me throughout my journey."

"I am more than thankful, Meera." Jon said shaking the girl's hand. "The hospitality of Winterfell is yours."

"Why don't you join us?" Bran offered.

"I don't think so, Bran," she told him. "I'm going to eat with father." She paraded off. Bran looked disappointed.

"Hodor and Summer were with you, weren't they?" Jon asked.

Bran looked down at his plate sadly. "It was my fault, Jon. The Whitewalkers killed them."

 _I shouldn't have said that._ He wanted to steer the subject by asking him about the Walkers but he just patted Bran on the shoulder. There was no more mention of the giant or the direwolf.

The feast was getting very noisy. The people feasted on the food and drinks like a pack of hungry wolves. Many came to congratulate Bran on his return.

"I have tell you something very important," Bran told Jon.

"We'll talk about it later," Jon assured him. "I promise. Too many people right now. You never know who's listening." Bran agreed.

They talked about the battle for a while. Bran winced at the mention of Rickon's death. "How…"

"I tried Bran," Jon said sadly. "But Ramsay Bolton's arrow reached him before my hand could."

Jon told him all about how the knights of the Vale came to the rescue and how his sister killed Ramsay.

"Sansa's gotten brave," Bran admitted proudly. "Why isn't she down yet?"

"She's off to the Twins with Petyr Baelish… Well it's a long story," he said looking at the confused look on his brother's face.

Ghost entered the hall. He rushed towards Bran and licked his face happily.

"Now that we are all settled," boomed Wyman Manderly. "I would like to propose a toast to Brandon Stark, Lord of Winterfell and the King in the North!"

The buzzing hall suddenly became as silent as the grave. "Bran Stark isn't the king!" someone argued. "Jon Snow is!" It was followed by a few silent murmurs.

"Let's face the truth," Manderly said. "He's a bastard! Bran Stark here is the trueborn son of Ned and Catelyn Stark!" A few whispers followed.

Jon noticed the puzzled look on Bran's face. He placed a hand on his brother's shoulder

Lyanna Mormont stood up. "Why can't there be a Lord of Winterfell AND a King in the North? Bran Stark can rule Winterfell while Jon Snow will be king." The murmurs grew louder.

"My lords," Davos bellowed standing up."We value all your opinions. But what matters most are the opinions of the Stark brothers. I think we should let them decide."

Bran had a nonplussed look on his face.

"Do what you feel is right," Jon whispered. "I'm there for you, no matter what."

"Well…" said Bran clearing his throat. "I am really thankful that you are all so contented to see me come back. It pleases me even more that you want me as your lord." He looked at Jon. "However, my brother won the north for us. If it wasn't for him, we'd still be cowering under the rule of the Boltons. He gave us our home back. He may be a baseborn but he has Stark blood in him. And that is why my lords, I want you to approve him as the Lord of Winterfell and King in the North. It is my final word."

The people were silent for a moment. "Jon Snow, the White Wolf!" someone yelled. It was followed by a few cheers.

Then they all rose at once; Glover, Mormont, Arryn, Reed, Manderly, Cerwyn and drew their swords. Their shouts echoed in the Great Hall.

"The King in the North!"

"The King in the North!"

 _"The King in the North!"_

 _"THE KING IN THE NORTH!"_


	14. BRAN 2

BRAN

He dreamed of a cave. It was dark, deep and covered with snow. Icicles sharp as canines hung from the mouth of the cave. They looked like its teeth.

He peered at it with suspicion. Whatever was in there, it was meant for him. He inched his way towards the cave and slipped in the snow.

Bran woke up with a start. A tall shape loomed over him.

"Where's my brother?" Bran Stark asked.

"At the small council meeting," Meera Reed replied. "He asked me to bring him to you once you had woken up."

Two men entered the room and hoisted Bran into a chair. Using all their strength, they carried him to the small council chamber.

He entered the room to find a serious discussion going on. The members stop talking the second he entered.

"Is he supposed to…" Glover questioned.

Jon Snow smiled and nodded. "Welcome the newest member of our small council. When I die, he will be Lord of Winterfell. I want him to attend as many meetings as possible."

The others grunted in approval.

"So we were talking about the Whitewalkers, right?" Manderly asked. "What special plans do you have for them?"

"One is Valyrian Steel," Jon replied.

"As if there's enough in the country."

"The Iron Throne's made of it," Davos added.

"Cersei _might_ form an alliance with us but she'll never let us touch her precious throne," Glover said.

"It's not just Valyrian Steel," Jon stated. "Dragonglass is the other option."

"Is there any specific place where can find it?" Mormont asked. "Because it is a pretty rare artifact."

"I know a place where you can find Dragonglass in abundance," Davos stated. All the eyes in the room turned to him.

"Dragonstone," he said finally.

"Are you sure?"

The Onion Knight nodded. "Stannis told me that it is buried deep beneath the dragonpits, a place where no one can find it."

"And why should we take the word of a dead man?" Wyman Manderly questioned.

"Stannis might be dead, but he was no liar." He turned to Jon. "This might be our chance. Allow me to go to Dragonstone. I have lived there for years. I know that place inside out."

"There's no point in sitting idle," Jon admitted. "Does anyone have anything against it?"

"This better be true, ser!" Glover scoffed. No one else argued.

"Take fifty good northmen," Jon commanded. "And make for White Harbour right now."

Davos stood up. "I will not fail you." He marched out of the hall.

Bran found himself in the weirwoods at night with Meera Reed. As the heart tree's bleeding eyes gazed at him, he felt nostalgic. He touched the scraped bark gently and warged into it.

A youthful Eddard Stark stood alone dressed in Stark wear. He was polishing his sword, looking at it as a father looked down at his firstborn son. Next to him, a river flowed gently, occasionally sprinkling a drop or two of the crystal green water on the crisp grass.

A tall man wearing the Targaryen armour came into sight. He walked towards Bran's father slowly.

Ned Stark stopped polishing his sword and looked up. The eerie figure moved closer. Eddard cast him a cold stare. "You're late, Rhaegar Targaryen."

The man pulled removed his helm. He had long white hair that reached down to his soldiers and beady purple eyes.

"A regular armour was all that I needed to sneak out," Rhaegar said, completely ignoring Ned. "No one even raised an eyebrow." His voice was tough with a touch of tenderness hidden beneath.

Ned fixed him with a reptile stare. "You've always been good at hiding things. Where is Lyanna?"

Rhaegar looked as calm as the Trident. "Put away your sword and I will tell you."

Ned frowned and tossed Ice away. "We haven't got much time. The battle commences tomorrow morning!"

The Targaryen prince smiled mysteriously. " _If_ there is a battle."

Ned looked at him uncertainly.

"That's the reason I called you here, at this hour of the night. There will be no battle."

Eddard continued to glare at him. "And you will return my sister?"

Rhaegar chortled. "If the world was that simple, wars and bloodshed wouldn't have taken place. Lyanna Stark will return with me to King's Landing and rule by my side."

Eddard gritted his teeth. "And what of your wife? I'm not sure Elia will be pleased."

"I will cast her aside for your sister."

Ned didn't look pleased. "So you cast aside your own wife for someone you met weeks ago. I feel that you'll do the same with Lyanna."

Rhaegar shook his head sadly. "Lyanna and me were _meant_ to be together, Ned. Has it ever occurred to you to take Lyanna's choice into consideration? "

"What do you mean?"

"I never abducted Lyanna. She came to me herself before we rode off from the tourney of Harrenhall. Ned, I _love_ her."

Pain reflected on Eddard's face. "Then why did she hide it from me?"

"The same reason," Rhaegar told him. "Your blind love for Robert Baratheon. She feared you would not pay heed to her choices and let me marry her."

Ned cringed. "What?"

Rhaegar nodded solemnly. "Yes. The time has come to end it, brother. Lay down your swords and come to King's Landing with me to celebrate your sister's wedding."

Ned looked back with a blank expression.

"Don't think too much," Rhaegar said softly. "If you love your sister, cast aside Robert and come join us."

Ned stared at him icily. "So that the Mad King can have my head and burn Robert just like he did Brandon and my father?"

"I can convince my father."

Eddard laughed bitterly. "Others might fall prey to your japes but I'm not one of them. I know a liar when I see one."

Rhaegar looked shocked. "I am not a liar."

"You're not a wise person either. Do you know how many had to die just because you stole my sister? Do you undersstand the seriousness? You've been pampered too much.

That brought a bitter twist to Rhaegar's mouth.

"You think you are the only one who can play this game?" Ned blazed. "You think you can get away with anything just because you're a prince? We'll prove you wrong in the battlefield tomorrow."

Rhaegar put on his helm and sighed dolefully. "I thought you were more sensible than that," he said sadly. "When we win tomorrow, I'll write Lyanna a song. A song of ice and fire."


	15. SANSA 2

SANSA

The twin towers of the Freys were built adroitly. Both of them were an exact replication of the other as if someone had placed a mirror in between.

Their wayn pulled up a fair few meters away from the tower. It had been a long journey.

Three Frey soldiers rode out from the eastern gatehouse, clad in the Frey armour.

Sansa wrapped her brown furs more tightly and got down from her cart. Though not as chilly as Winterfell, the night was still freakishly cold. Baelish and Brienne got down beside her.

"Do they know we are coming?" she asked.

Baelish nodded, removing his moleskin gloves. "I sent a raven."

The soldiers halted to meet their guests. The stout soldier hosted the Frey banners. "We have been waiting for your arrival eagerly."

"So have we," Petyr affirmed.

The soldiers led them to Clistar's chambers. There weren't many braziers in the narrow hallway. The coarse stony wall was wreathed with portraits of people Sansa didn't recognize. They walked in deathlike silence.

Baelish inched closer to her. Sansa turned her head and looked at Brienne. Baelish moved away.

They stopped inches from the room whose door was left open. In the luminously lit chamber, a boy of about twenty sat reading at a table. He was a lanky youth with long curly black hair that reached and a neatly trimmed beard. The sigil of the Freys festooned his brown doublet.

Petyr cleared his throat. The boy looked up. "We are delighted to have you."

"I am glad too," Baelish said drawing a chair for Sansa and then one for himself.

The boy glanced at Brienne. "You think I am that distrustful, don't you? Bringing a bodyguard of your own."

"Brienne is harmless, my lord," Petyr said as if Brienne was a dog. "She won't raise a sword unless we command it."

"I hope it never comes to that," Clistar said flippantly.

"I'm so sorry to hear about your losses," said Littlefinger.

Clistar shrugged. "My family got what they deserved. When you slay a guest under your own roof, you cannot expect the gods to reward you with gold."

"I heard about your misgivings with your uncle."

"He was a bloody pimp," Clistar abused. "But we are not here to discuss about Emmon Frey, are we?"

"I'm sorry, my lord." Sansa was astonished to hear the politeness in Littlefinger's voice.

Clistar turned to Sansa. His sky blue eyes bore deep into her. She could not help but blush. "I heard the north has crowned a bastard as their king."

 _Petyr warned me about this,_ she thought. "In the north, we focus on the person's deeds, not his name. Jon won Winterfell for us."

Clistar grazed his beard. "I'm not sure we see eye to eye on this. It seems to me that _you and Baelish_ won the battle."

From the corner of her eye, she saw Petyr smirk. "You honour us," she said civilly. "But it was Jon who convinced the wildlings to battle. He was the one who formed the predominant part of the army. All we did was clear up the mess."

"But he would have lost if it wasn't for you," Clistar Frey said.

"He would have found some or the other way."

"You seem to have boundless confidence in your brother," Clistar admitted. "So why should _I_ trust this Jon Snow?"

Sansa shifted in her seat. "The woman who sits on the Iron Throne is vile and spiteful. I'm not just saying that out of hate for what her family did to mine, but I've lived under the same roof as the woman. It's not just the queen. All the Lannisters lack immense trust. They don't trust in family, they don't believe their friends. Her father blames his poor son for everything. There's no warmth and no faith at all. Everyone has their eye on that filthy iron chair. When one lion puts a foot forward, the pack brings him down."

Frey folded his hands. "You didn't understand my question, darling. I asked you to tell me about house Stark; not affront House Lannister."

She looked back, awestruck.

"I'm sorry," Baelish intervened. "But I think Sansa has made a pretty valid point. House Stark really needs you. _We_ really need you."

" _We?"_ Clistar laughed."You are like a gluttonous honeybee in a field full of splendid flowers, Lord Baelish. You choose one, suck out all the nectar and move to the next one leaving the previous one withered."

He laughed raucously at his own stupid joke. "Weren't you serving House Arryn before and House Lannister before that? The next thing we know is you'll be off searching for Targaryens!"

Sansa glanced at Littlefinger. He fixed Clistar with a dark stare.

"I apologize," Frey said controlling his laughter. "Please go on."

Baelish cracked his knuckles. "How much army do you have here?"

"About ten thousand," Clistar replied.

"And how much does your uncle have?"

"Lesser."

"But he has the support of the Lannisters," Petyr framed.

Clistar leaned forward, listening curiously.

"One command from Cersei and a horde of Lannister soldiers will root you out of your keep even before you can raise your sword."

"I see," Clistar said narrowing his eyes.

"What you need is the support of a strong house," said Littlefinger. "And House Stark will definitely help you. The north has more army than all the six kingdoms combined.

All you have to do is sign on the parchment and seal our alliance." He handed him the paper.

Clistar read the parchment and without saying a word, he signed it. Sansa exchanged looks with Baelish. He nodded exuberantly. She felt a bit sorry for sentencing him to death.

"I suppose you would be spending the night here today," Clistar said. "It is never safe to travel alone at this hour. And as you Starks say, _winter is here._ "

"That was easier than I thought," Brienne admitted as they stepped out of the room.

"You did well," Petyr told Sansa. "Ned would have been so proud you right now."

They started to walk, their shoes scraping against the hard stony floor. "We return to Winterfell tomorrow," she told Baelish.

" _You_ return to Winterfell ," Baelish corrected. "I have to travel to the Vale."

Sansa stopped in her tracks. "J… Just like that?"

Baelish shook his head sadly. "The business in the Vale is extremely important. And I do not trust Robin Arryn to manage it alone. I cannot afford to miss it at any cost."

Sansa's heart sank. "But we have been doing so well with you… You can't parade off that way."

Petyr took a step closer. "I'm very sorry. I had grown rather attached to the north. I'm going to dearly miss all of you." He moved closer. "And you know who I'm going to miss the most?" He caressed her cheek. _"You."_


	16. ARYA 2

ARYA

The road was uneven and their cart quivered a lot. "We will stop in a few minutes," Oberos told her. The Dornish trader was a dark and portly man whose white beard was so long that it reached his stomach.

Arya mumbled in approval. She sat in the back nestled among the finest blood oranges. The heavy perfume was making her a bit sick. Her horse had died two days after she had left the Twins. The trader was humane enough to offer help. She never told him her true name. For him, she was Catelyn of Flint's Finger.

The night was growing darker and colder. Arya shifted restlessly amongst the fruits. "Where are we?"

"Somewhere around the Eastern road," the man said. He had a typical Dornish accent. "You mean to head towards King's Landing, right?"

"Yes. I have people to meet," she replied.

"Are these people very special?"

"Very," she replied smirking.

She went through her list once again. _Cersei, the Mountain, Beric Dondarrion, Thoros of Myr, the Red Woman, Valar Morghullis._

The moon was high up in the sky when they decided to stop. Oberos took shelter underneath a dried oak tree and fell asleep within minutes. Arya tried to sleep slanting against the giant tree but the coarse wood hurt her back. Needle was lying a few feet away. She picked it up and started sharpening it with a stone.

She did not know when or for how much time she slept but a swishing noise woke her up. Grabbing her sword, she shook Oberos awake. "Go to sleep, child," the Dornishman told her groggily. Arya pointed at the bushes behind the tree.

A pair of malevolent red eyes glared back at her. Another pair appeared from somewhere else and before she knew it, a thousand malicious eyes were looking at them greedily.

The creatures stepped forward. The bright moonlight reflected on their faces as they bared their were grey ones, there were brown ones, there were ones with missing legs but they all looked just as ferocious. _We've invaded their territory,_ she reflected.

Arya heard a trickle of water. She looked at Oberos, only to find that he had pissed himself. "W… We should probably go…," he stuttered. "It's going to be okay."

A brown wolf leapt on him. The trader fell face down as the beast bit into his neck. Blood seeped out of the wound and trickled down to his ornate Dornish wear.

"HELP!" yelled the man. "AAARRGGHH!" Arya tried to take a step towards him but the others surrounded her growling fiercely.

Oberos tried to squirm free but it did no good. After a few moments, his body became still and the victor devoured on his flesh.

Fear clutched at Arya's throat as she turned to the others. They growled hungrily and advanced towards her snapping their jaws. She held onto Needle tightly. _My last hope._

" _Owooooooooooohooooooo."_ A fierce howl rang in the air. Suddenly, the howling pack fell silent as a ghost and moved aside. Arya wrapped her fingers tightly around the sword and tensed back, ready to fight.

A gigantic grey wolf emerged from amidst them, snarling and snapping.

All the breath went out of Arya. Needle slipped from her hand fell onto the crisp grass. She stared at the wolf, dumbstruck.

The wolf's jaw tightened and its golden eyes flashed a warning. Quivering, Arya stuck out her hand. "It… It's me…"

The wolf drew closer. Arya could feel its warm breath on her palm as it sniffed her. Her throat felt like a desert. Ages later, the wolf gave a yelp and started to lick her face.

"NYMERIA!" Arya yelled and hugged her long lost direwolf. Tears of happiness were streaming down her cheeks and into the direwolf's fur. Nymeria gave a soft whimper. For that enchanted moment, Arya forgot everything. There was no Cersei or the Mountain or the Red Woman. She was with someone she loved. She was with family.

After a long time, Arya broke free wiping her eyes. Nymeria licked her cheek again. Arya stroked the smooth fur underneath the direwolf's chin and got up.

The wolves in the pack stood stiff as a tree, gaping at them in awe. Laughing, Arya gathered her things. The horse cart stood a few miles away. She unhooked the mare from the wagon and pocketed a few blood oranges. Mounting the horse, she slowly rode it towards her direwolf.

Nymeria blinked at her innocently. Arya reined the horse a few steps further. The direwolf started to follow.

The wolves started to howl. The sound echoed into the night. The sound was sad and full of misery. _Come back,_ they seemed to say.

Nymeria stopped. She looked at Arya and then back at her wolves.

Arya shifted in her saddle restlessly, palms covered in sweat. She drew a slow breath and gazed at Nymeria.

The direwolf had not made her choice yet.

The wolves howled again. _She is the heart of her pack,_ Arya thought. _They'll die without her._

Finally, Nymeria cast her one last fleeting glance and marched off to join the rest of her pack.

Arya had seen this coming but it still felt like someone had buried an axe deep into her stomach. She stared at the spot where Nymeria had disappeared, tears welling in her eyes. She wanted to call her to her, perhaps hug her for one last time. _No,_ she thought sternly. _If I look back now, I'll never be able to move ahead._

She kicked her horse and rode away from the place. Her dearest friend had chosen to live with her pack and she had to accept it, no matter what.

 _It is okay, Nymeria,_ she thought as she rode towards King's Landing. _Our paths were different after all._ She sighed sadly. _I should have never let you go._


	17. DAENERYS 2

DAENERYS

" _Home,"_ she thought as the ship moved closer to Dragonstone. Viserys had pledged to get her home safe when she was still a child. But the promise had gone to the grave along with him, in a pot full of molten gold.

The castle came into sight, stout and sturdy.

"One of the strongest and most well-built castles in the whole Westeros," Tyrion informed, leaning over the deck. He wore a quilted violet doublet, the Targayen sigil festooned over the left breast.

Her ship kissed the shore with a soft bump. A damp wind tore at her silky hair as Daenerys set foot on her birthplace for the first time. It was a mystical feeling. Very gently, she bent over and touched the floor. The dusky stone felt rough beneath her fingers. An overwhelming emotion took over her. Dany shivered.

Two Tyrell soldiers sauntered towards the gates and threw them open divulging the bewitching scenery beyond.

Danerys felt Tyrion's hand on her shoulder. "Welcome home, my queen," he said smiling warmly.

She stood up and turned her neck. Varys stood there, clad in orange robes, with Missandei, Olenna and Ellaria Sand next to him. The Tyrells had arrived, and so had the Martells all geared up for the big fight.

She minced towards the castle. With the ocean lashing against the shore, she made her way into the spacious courtyard. The eyes of grotesque gargoyles and stony wyverns followed her as she made her way inside the central keep.

The spiral stairway was long and lit diffusely. Missandei followed her with a lamp. The light from the torch threw Tyrion's shadow across the wall. The dwarf stood as tall as a king.

"That was a long ride," Tyrion wheezed as they reached the top. Numerous chambers could be spotted on that floor but Dany's eyes averted to the biggest one. She entered it.

The room was round with unadorned black walls. Dany saw four tall windows, overlooking the four directions, sunlight streaming through them. In the centre of the room lay a huge table tenanting almost all the space. It was adorned by a vast map of Westeros nearly as big as the table itself.

"The Painted chamber," Varys spoke. "Right here Aegon the Conqueror plotted the invasion of Westeros." He walked around the room looking around, occasionally stroking the walls.

"It is beautiful," Daenerys croaked. Her voice came out hoarse and raspy. She realized that she hadn't had even a sip of water for the last few hours.

The hall was filled with the sound of roaring waves. Tyrion walked towards the table. "Now that everything is in its right place, shall we begin?"

She looked at him calmly. "In a few minutes. I have to clear something first."

She had ordered the dragons to be transported to the dragonpits, a place from where they couldn't cause much harm.

Two stout Martells stood guarding the damp rocky chambers. Ear-splitting cries could be heard from inside. Dany tiptoed into the chamber.

Daenerys felt a blast of heat she entered the room. The chamber was dark and dank a circular stone ceiling. Rhaegal and Viserion napped on the hard stone floor, bound by chains. Drogon's chain lay on the ground, broken, while the dragon flew from one wall to another breathing small amounts of flame.

Dany knelt beside Viserion and stroked his rough forehead. The white dragon opened its eyes a bit and closed them again.

"Rhaegal!" she called out. The green scaled beast didn't even move a muscle.

"Are you angry with me?" she asked sadly. The dragons did not respond. "Even I would be furious if someone chained me up in rooms with barely enough air."

" _GYAAAOH!"_ Drogon swooped down in front of her. His smouldering red eyes glared at her ferociously. She reached out a hand to him. "I'm really sorry," she mumbled. "But this is for your own good."

The beast spit fire on her hand, burning some of her emerald dress. The flame disappeared after a while. Drogon spread his wings and flew back to the walls.

Dany felt lost. _My own children,_ she thought as she sat down between Viserion and Rhaegal.

"I'm sorry I'm not taking you with me," she found herself speaking. Her right hand began to stroke the white dragon affectionately. "If it wasn't this war, I would have spent endless hours with you."

Rhaegal grunted in reply. She patted him on the head. "We could have flied everywhere. From Casterly Rock to the Thousand Islands, from north of the Wall to Dorne."

She stood up and looked up at Drogon. The black dragon clinging to the wall was gazing at her intently.

"I don't know when all this will be over," she spoke loudly. "I don't even know if I will live. But if I do, I promise you, I'll be a more caring mother." She walked towards the doorway.

Drogon flew down once again. His brothers woke up within the blink of an eye. The three beasts stared at Dany and screeched.

Daenerys felt a stab of guilt and pity. _No,_ she thought. _A queen must be strong._ "GYAAOOOHH!" the dragons screeched again, this time more shrilly. Without looking back, Daenerys stormed out of the room and trotted towards the Painted Chamber.

It was the longest walk of her life.


	18. TYRION 2

TYRION

"As much as your visits please me Varys, I think you should pay heed to someone else than me," Tyrion Lannister said. "People might get the wrong feeling."

Leaning against the grey wall, Varys chuckled. "Oh, what a beautiful idea that is. The dwarf and the eunuch. Better than those dry old tales of princes and princesses."

Tyrion fluffed the pillow on his featherbed and placed his head on it. "I still find it intriguing. _Why_ do you visit me so often?"

"You're the only amusing person around, to be honest. The Tyrells are too grim, the Martells quick tempered and Queen Daenerys spends hours and hours staring at the map of Westeros."

Tyrion got up and walked to the window. "Are you happy with all the strategies she is making?" Salty ocean wind hit him in the face as he opened the window.

"It appears to me you're not," Varys replied. "I never assumed you'd fret about Cersei so much."

"The battle against Cersei doesn't frighten me one bit," Tyrion declaimed. "It's what comes and after."

"And what is it, my lord?" Varys asked innocently.

Tyrion let out an exasperated sigh. "Jon Snow."

"Why is he a concern of yours?"

"Our queen plans to evade the north after she is done with the south."

"Yes," Varys replied.

Tyrion Lannister shut the window. "Not the most perfect move in my opinion. I have lived northeners, Varys. They are proud people. Believe me, the last thing you want to do is disrupt their tranquillity."

"We do have dragons," the eunuch replied. "Enough fire to melt the frozen folk."

"Dragons can be killed with good steel," Tyrion affirmed. "And when a northerner wields it, not even a giant beast can take him down."

Varys chortled. "You're exaggerating."

Tyrion ignored him. "Jon Snow would have been much better as an ally than a foe. Someone to guard the north for our queen while she rules the south. "

"But would the boy have accepted us an ally?"

"Why would he deny us?" Tyrion stated. "The north has always needed men to face snarks and grumkins and whatever prowls beyond the Wall."

He walked to table next to his bed and poured himself a cup of wine. "To be honest, I've always felt sympathy towards the bastard. Raised in a high family but still treated like scum. No mother's love…. Father not giving enough attention…"

Varys suppressed a laugh.

Tyrion cast him a piercing look. "Your sense of humour is highly appalling."

"I did not mean it, my lord," Varys apologized. "But for some reason I never thought that Jon Snow was Ned Stark's son."

"Balderdash," Tyrion muttered sipping his wine. The swill was strong. It brought tears to his eyes.

"Ned never seemed to like a man who would lie with another woman," the eunuch confessed. "But then again, he was young. And youth makes a person do the most fatuous things."

Hours later, after Tyrion had filled his belly with a million cups of wine and retched them up, they found themselves back in the Painted chamber for the final small council meeting.

"We wish to fight in the vanguard," Ellaria Sand claimed.

Tyrion leaned to the left and whispered in the Spider's ear, "This calls for trouble." Varys gave him a stiff nod.

And he was right. Across the table, the Queen of Thorns cleared her throat. "Aren't you forgetting someone, dear?"

"Not to our notice," Obara Sand mocked.

Olenna glared at her. "Your opinion doesn't signify anything, child."

Tyrion glimpsed at Daenerys. She looked a bit fatigued, with her eyes drooping slightly. He could notice her tussle to keep a straight face. _Too much burden on the shoulders of such a young child,_ Tyrion thought sympathetically.

"The Tyrells have huge numbers," Olenna Tyrell said.

"What good would numbers do if you are a damp squib in the field of battle?" Nym Sand commented dryly. "The Martells have better soldiers."

Daenerys inhaled the dusty ocean air and let it out. "I guarantee that you both have excellent forces. But we are going to have a majority of the Tyrells in the vanguard."

"We will not disappoint you," Olenna said, beaming.

Ellaria wasn't pleased. "Forgive me, Your Grace, but it seems a bit biased."

"Fighting in the rear isn't a shame," Tyrion proclaimed. "You are still fighting for your queen." All the gazes in the room turned to Ellaria.

"Whatever suits the queen," she snorted. She didn't open her mouth for the rest of the discussion.

The meeting lasted till late night. Olenna Tyrell wished Dany luck as she left. Ellaria and her Sand Snakes did not make any such gesture.

Tyrion trotted to the door, the eunuch by his side, eager to slurp some dreamwine and fall into an endless sleep.

"Wait," a feeble voice called out. Daenerys Targaryen was approaching them.

"I found this in my chamber," she said handing Varys a letter. Tyrion squinted at it. _"Dear Godfred,"_ it read. "I want to start with an apology…" He tried to read the rest of it but the words were a blur.

"Do you have any information about this person?" the queen asked anxiously.

Varys scanned the letter and then looked at Daenerys. "I do."

 _Nothing can escape the spider's web,_ Tyrion thought.

"Tell me," the mother of dragons commanded.

"Lord Godfred of Asshai," Varys narrated. "He became a maester at Oldtown in his forties. A gifted man, one of his kind. His healing powers were magical. He was the grand Maester at the court when Aerys Targaryen became the king. The only man in the court who had the courage to oppose the Mad King. He used to treat Aerys after his hunts. One time, a wild boar attacked your father. It was a bloody mess. The tusks went right through the Mad King's chest and came out of his back."

Daenerys winced. Even Tyrion could not help but cringe.

"Everyone was certain that the Mad King wouldn't make it," Varys went on. "But then the Lord Godfred made the impossible happen. No one knows what he did since he insisted on seeing Aerys alone. In a day, Aerys Targaryen was completely healed. And right after three years, Aerys ousted him."

"Why?" Tyrion asked. "This man literally saved him from the jaws of death."

"He asked for mercy," the eunuch replied solemnly. "Not for himself, but for the innocent folk whom Aerys burned pitilessly."

Daenerys stared at him, her eyes glinting with keenness. "Is he still alive?"

Varys nodded. "After being dismissed by Aerys, the maester traversed to Tyrosh. My little birds tell me that he is quite successful."

"We need him on our side," the queen said at once.

"Very well," said Varys. "I shall send a raven to Daario Naharis…"

"Daario is a man sharp with the sword and blunt with the tongue. We need someone with a sharp wit and understanding. Someone who has dealt with my father."

Tyrion's palms began to sweat. He knew where this was going.

"I will be honoured, Your Grace," Varys said coolly.

Tyrion stared at him, stupefied. He had expected the eunuch to utter at least a word of protest. "But what about our plans…"

"Like I'm going to prove my bravery on the battlefield," Varys said teasing himself.

"Not the field, Varys! The queen needs you for the planning and execution!"

The Spider grinned. "The queen has you."

Tyrion squinted at him suspiciously. _Why is he so keen to meet that man?_

"He will be gone only for a short time," Daenerys assured.

"It is my pleasure," Varys told her, smiling. "I swear to you I will return with the Maester at my side."

"I hope you do," Daenerys said and left the room.

The thrum of crickets could be heard from nearby. Tyrion stood fixed to his spot, lost for words.

"Well," said Varys cutting through the silence. "Don't miss me too much."

"Not in my wildest dreams," Tyrion laughed. "Finally, god has given some peace to me. I don't have to inspect my closet every night to see whether you are in it."

Laughing, Varys scurried away. Tyrion Lannister stared at Spider's shadow on the wall as it became smaller and smaller before disappearing.

Indeed, Tyrion was going to miss him.


	19. JAIME 2

JAIME

The march to the Mud Gate was long and gloomy.

Cersei had enjoined thirty Lannister men including her own sweet brother to escort Randyll Tarly to the Red Keep in one shape.

Jaime Lannister was at the front, his russet gelding marching speedily. _Cersei should have welcomed him herself,_ he thought sullenly. People often described Lord Randyll as a man thin of skin and quick tempered.

"I pray it doesn't rain." Jaime looked to his right. A black robed Qyburn was riding beside him on a crème stallion.

"My sister sent you too?" Jaime asked, dumbstruck. They took a right turn.

The Maester nodded. "A Hand must always represent his queen."

The weather was getting damp and heavy. The morning sky turned into an unwelcome shade of purple.

They rode in silence for a while, the hooves of their horses beating against the cobbled streets.

Qyburn cleared his throat. "If you permit, may I ask something?"

"It's a long way," Jaime replied dryly. He glanced back at the chattering Lannister soldiers. "And I can surely live without the noises of these pitiful shits for a while."

"Are you having any problems with your sister?"

It started to rain. Fat raindrops splattered against his head and trickled down his face. Jaime licked his lips.

"What happens between me and my sister remains between us," he said sternly. "Don't lose your sleep over it."

"I have no intention of affronting you," the Maester said softly. "But your sister feels some strain in your relationship."

 _Cersei's gotten herself a confidant,_ Jaime thought crossly. _As if a trustful brother wasn't enough._ He flashed the Maester a mocking grin. "I was wrong. I prefer the noises of Lannister soldiers than your empty words of advice."

He reigned his horse and marched forward, ahead of Qyburn and the rest of them. He wished Bronn was there with him. The knight had been sent on a mission with a bunch of Lannister soldiers to rid the kingdom of the Brotherhood without banners. _A thousand complains was all it took for my sister to lift a finger._

The rain stopped entirely by the time they reached the Mud Gate. Cold and soaking wet, Jaime Lannister brushed a hand through his matted here. Qyburn reigned his horse next to him. They stood there for a while in icy silence.

The riders emerged from the woods in a sea of emerald, the Tarly banners rippling as they galloped. Jaime kicked his horse. Qyburn followed him hastily, along with a Lannister knight who bore their sigil. The raindrops had worked the mud into a slimy mess.

The Tarlys stopped as they saw him approaching. Jaime noticed a huntsman on their banners, surrounded by green.

A horsed bald man stood in the front. "Do I have the honour of approaching Lord Randyll?"

The man's cold eyes bore right into Jaime's. "Yes," he rasped. "And who is this fellow?" he said looking at Qyburn.

"Maester Qyburn, my lord, the Hand of the queen."

"This is my wife Melessa," he said nodding at a plump woman dressed in an ivory gown. "That's my son Dickon and

next to him, my daughter Talla." Jaime glimpsed at the two adolescents and nodded. "I would have introduced you to my banners," Tarly went on. "But we're too wet and hungry. If only the queen could give us some bread and wine and light a nice fire for us…"

Jaime flinched for a bit. "At once," he told Randyll.

He turned to the Lannister host. _"TURN BACK!"_

He rode back into the city, Lord Randyll and Qyburn either on each side.

"I had expected your sister," Tarly admitted sourly.

"The queen had business with the crown," Qyburn replied at once. "She barely has time to breathe."

"What the devil is wrong with your hand?" Randyll asked Jaime. "Or is it just a show off? _I am a Lannister, I have gold."_ He cackled.

 _Sharp of tongue,_ Jaime thought. _The people were right._ "I lost it while fighting," he said coolly. They marched ahead, leaving Qyburn behind.

"Not a surprise," said Tarly. "So what future do you have now? Jaime Lannister, one of the greatest warriors in the seven kingdoms and now just a futile soldier with a lustrous arm."

Jaime was used to taunts and mockery. Spending half of his life with Tyrion had prepared him for that. He remained silent.

.

They took a left turn. The road was narrow and muddy, with not a soul was on the streets. They kept on riding

At the end of the lane, a portly hirsute man stepped in front of them, clutching a crossbow. He was garbed a stained beige robe. The seven pointed star on his forehead stretched as he gritted his teeth. "Revenge," he snarled in a ghastly voice.

Jaime shifted in his saddle, tensed. "Leave us be, ser, we bear no harm…"

Six armed children carrying sharp knives appeared from nowhere. Five Lannister men moved to the front, preparing to attack as the children formed a chain in front of the host, blocking their path. "Revenge!" The chant was cold alarming.

"What bloody nuisance is this?" Randyll flared. He glared at the lead. "One more word and I'll have your fucking heads on a spike!"

The bearded man smiled cruelly and aimed his crossbow at Randyll's chest. The bolt came at him, rapid and swift. Lord Tarly ducked and the bolt went swishing past him slamming into the shield of one of his soldiers.

Jaime didn't even have to utter a word. The soldiers, Tarly and Lannister dismounted and pinned all the seven Sparrows, pressing a knife on their throats.

"What in the seven hells are you waiting for?" Randyll Tarly blustered. "Kill them!"

"WAIT!" Jaime roared. "They are not ours to kill! The decision lies with Cersei. Tie them and take them to the castle."

Tarly did not look pleased. "We could have ended it much earlier," he argued. "Attacking a high lord! This crime is punishable by death!"

"Do not worry, Lord Tarly," he assured. "Cersei will deliver you justice."


	20. CERSEI 2

CERSEI

The dim empty chamber reeked of grime and filth. The lead Sparrow hung from the wall, his wrists chained to a pair of tarnished iron cuffs.

"Speak up," said Cersei.

The man swung from wall to wall, restively. "Let me go…"

"We don't have much time," Qyburn said sternly. "Tell us your purpose or the children suffer." He glanced at Gregor Clegane.

The six Sparrows cowered into a corner, eyes wide with fear. She felt Jaime's shivering hand on her shoulder. Cersei patted it.

As the Mountain barred the door of the chamber, Cersei made her way across the dirt covered floor and stopped inches from the Sparrow. He was covered in soot and stank of shit and sweat. "By what name do you go?"

The man grinned at her baring his yellow teeth. "Corax."

She moved away from him and turned to her brother. "And I thought they had perished." Jaime stared at her, transfixed.

"You're brave, I'll give you that," she told Corax. "However, there is a fine line between being courageous and being foolish."

The man spat at her feet. "You're one to talk…"

She grabbed the burning torch from Qyburn's hand. "Randyll Tarly wanted you executed right away. You should thank me for showing mercy." She still remembered Randyll Tarly's furious expression when he had said that.

She cupped Corax's face. "Tell me how many more are hiding out there and perhaps I'll let you live."

Corax chortled. "If my life was precious to me, I would never have hunted your brother down in the first place."

Cersei's jaw twitched. "You seem awfully audacious for a sinner."

"We are not the sinners!" the Sparrow blazed. " _You_ were the one who killed High Sparrow in the light of the Seven!"

She ignored him. "How many are there?"

"I'm not easy to break, Cersei Lannister," the man scoffed. "I retain the trust of members unlike some."

Cersei stared at the man for a long time. "Ser Gregor," she said finally.

Wielding a jagged knife, the Mountain trotted towards the Corax. He plunged it deep into his left ankle and twisted it. The Sparrow screamed loudly as blood oozed from the wound and dribbled onto the floor.

The children started crying. She saw Jaime flinch. Qyburn remained calm as ever.

"It is not too late," the Maester said. "Open up now before you lose the rest of your body."

Fat beads of sweat trickled down Corax's forehead as he yelled in agony. "I… will… not… say…"

"If that's your choice," Cersei said icily. "Chop of his hand." Gregor Clegane unsheathed his sword.

Jaime squeezed her shoulder. "You're going too far." She brushed his hand away.

The Mountain raised his sword and in one quick motion he chopped off the Sparrow's right arm. It was a dreadful sight. The lower part of Corax's arm hung on the wall while his stump spat pus and blood. His screams of pain echoed in the room.

The children started to wail loudly. Ignoring them, Cersei looked at Corax. "Any wise man would have yielded by now."

Through all the torture and pain, the man smiled. "I'm no wise man then."

Cersei folded her hands. "I can torture you day and knight, you know. You will come around eventually. They all do. Ser Gregor, chop of this man's legs as slowly and painfully as possible."

But it was Jaime who moved. Breathing in a ragged manner, he approached the Sparrow, his fingers coiled around his sword. With immense power, he swerved his blade.

Corax's head fell to the floor with a soft thud. The Sparrow's body went limp as blood sprouted from his neck.

Anger surged through Cersei. "He was just going to tell us!"

Jaime glowered at her, wheezing and sweating. "Enough."

"Sometimes I wonder whose side you are on, brother," she said, disappointed. "Grab the children," she told Clegane.

"We don't know anything," a girl among the Sparrows pleaded. The rest sobbed in consent.

In a swift motion, Jaime stepped in their way. "This is not tolerable, Cersei! They are children!"

"But still Sparrows," she replied with a cool courtesy in her voice. "Move aside, brother. This is no time to be noble."

"They are clueless!" he argued back. "That fat bastard must have shoved a spear into their hands and told them to fight a few days ago! It's _his_ fault, not theirs!"

Cersei rubbed her throbbing forehead. _He is not going to let it go._ "They will regroup when I release them."

Jaime lowered his blade. "Then don't release them! Allow them to work here in the kitchens or serve as squires! I will see to that!"

"Do whatever you want," Cersei told him, dismayed.

She walked to the door and opened it. "Let's get out of here before night falls. We've got an angry lord to face."


	21. Game of Thrones season 8

Hey guys. I couldn't finish my season 7 fanfiction due to studies. But I have started writing the plot of season 8. I made a video about it and posted it on YouTube. Here's the link to that:

watch?v=Ed0mNQSFz-Y


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